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for boys who have been mistaken for girls

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When they tell you your voice is too high, too whiny, evokes images

of unicorns and pink braided friendship bracelets, that maybe

you should tone it down a notch, tell them that at least you

have vocal cords that are used for good. When they try

to snatch away your towel in the gym locker room to peek

at what’s underneath, remind yourself that undressing someone

as a joke is nowhere near undressing someone out of love.

One day someone will remove your clothes because they want

to get as close to you as possible without any layers in between,

instead of trying to get access to your “goods."

On the days when self-doubt feels heavy like a swallowed

peach pit in the bottom of your stomach that you just can’t throw up,

go watch a thunderstorm make its way across the horizon

and convince yourself that you are as full of strength and noise

as the thunderclaps themselves.

You are lightning.

You are bravery in a body that is still learning how to find itself,

like a package that’s been mailed to the next door neighbor

instead of to the intended recipient.

When they pull your long hair and laugh about how

they should have brought hairbands to braid it into pigtails,

stop wishing you could tie it into a noose.

Instead, make a lasso from it and learn how to capture

every shred of self-doubt still floating through your veins,

then throw every last scrap in the garbage can.

You are lightning.

And lightning will always be lightning, no matter

how many times it’s been mistaken for anything else.


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